


The Words We Never Said

by maderi



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alfred and Martha are saints towards their stupid son's, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce is a coward, Bruce truly finds a new God, Clark don''t know his own strength, Drama & Romance, Fake Marriage, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, HEA, Happy Ending, Heartache, Insecurity, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Rimming, They really do try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 22:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maderi/pseuds/maderi
Summary: Bruce is done pining. It is time to move on, time to heal and live out the rest of his life away from the man of steel. But what is two lovesick puppies to do, when they both need each other, as they need air to live? Misunderstandings are bound to happen, feelings trampled and cast aside as the two greatest men alive try to figure out the ancient wonders of confessions.





	The Words We Never Said

**Author's Note:**

> The amazing Susscx made such beautiful artwork to accompany this piece for the 2019 Superbat big bang.
> 
> I'm so lucky to have had them for a partner and to have them make such breathtakingly beautiful artwork for the story. Thank you so much!
> 
> You can find them and their art here:
> 
> https://twitter.com/susscx/status/1154560071642124288?s=19
> 
> https://susscx.tumblr.com/post/186551269121/my-superbat-big-bang-2019-accompanying-piece-for

Life had never been a kind mistress to Bruce, losing his parents the way he did had sealed that deal long ago. The years he’d roamed afterward had taught him to be humble, it had taught him right from wrong and in the very end, how strong his own sense of right was. 

But these last few years had been testing his resolve something fierce. It had all started when a certain clumsy, corn-fed Metropolis reporter had stumbled into a party, glasses askew, pant-knees scrubbed open, hair disheveled. He had truly looked like the mess he actually was. 

The next few weeks, Bruce had spent his spare time digging up whatever he could on Clark Joseph Kent. The farm-boy hadn’t had the best of starts in life either, but he’d somehow managed to dig himself out of his Smallville hometown and landed a job with the Daily Planet. 

Since then, he and his wife had been a constant thorn in Bruce’s side. Lois Lane, his partner in crime, seemed to be everywhere at once. She always had the latest news on Superman, the scoop of engagements and scandals, but more than that, she was everywhere Bruce Wayne was. 

Sighing deeply, Bruce turned to stare out the window once more. The rain running down the glass made for an almost romantic display where they reflected the light from the burning fireplace. The wind howling and whining as it passed every curve and bend of the Wayne mansion, did its part to keep every drop of romance from the situation though, bathing the dimly lit study in a cold atmosphere. 

The soft clinking of mostly melted ice cubes as they swam around each other in the ember liquid, did little to drag Bruce out of his depressing thoughts. He’d been in a furiously bad mood the last few days and no matter how hard he tried to elude his mind as to why he knew the reason behind. Had known for years now. 

“Would you care for some light or would it ruin your brooding, Master Bruce?” Alfred’s dry questing did little to lighten his already poor mood.  
Ignoring him, Bruce furrowed his brows harder, lips set in an even firmer, thin line. He was being childish, he knew this, but the ache in his chest had become worse the last few months and he had no doubt this was affecting the Wayne household. 

“Bruce...-” Alfred sighed as he brought a little ottoman to sit before him. 

“This is not helping anyone,” he started softly. “you need to let Master Kent go.”

The sting that raced through his chest was instant, his mood darkening and anger seeped in on him with crippling speed. He didn’t notice how hard he was clenching the glass in his hand before Alfred gently, but forcefully, took it from him. 

“Now, before you begin;” Alfred tutted, “we know it is not as simple as that. The Justice League need you, the boys will still need you, but maybe, maybe it is time to let go. Just a little bit.” He continued. 

For a moment, Bruce didn’t quite understand what Alfred was getting at. He couldn’t just stop being Batman. Gotham needed the bat and Bruce, well Bruce needed the bat too.

“Let the boys take over some of the work. Control the Justice League from behind the fight, from behind the comfort of a desk.” Alfred’s voice was as close to soft begging at it went these days. 

“Alfred...-” He started, but stopped when the older man raised his hand for him to be quiet.

“You do not have to decide right away, but you need some time away from Master Kent, some time to breathe without a...without a reminder. Working behind the scenes would give you that time.” He smiled softly as he looked into Bruce’s eyes. 

He knew Alfred was right. Of course, he did. He just didn’t want to admit to it, didn’t want to admit that he’d fallen head over heels for a married man. 

Sometimes, in the solitude of his empty bed, he’d catch himself fantasizing what Clark’s touch on his naked skin would be like, how his lips would feel as they brushed over Bruce’s flushed skin. It never failed to have him spilling hot and messy in his tightly clenched fist. It also never failed to make him sick to the stomach. 

He’d been raised better than that. 

Sighing deeply, Bruce decided to let fate decide for him. Smiling over at Alfred, he almost felt bad as the older man’s face contorted into something like ugly unease. He felt bad for upsetting his oldest friend, the closest thing he had to a parent. Opening his mouth to answer, Bruce was just as shocked as Alfred was at the words that followed. 

“You’re right.” The words left his mouth, falling from his chapped lips as if it had been Bruce’s plan all along to form them. 

“I beg your pardon, Master Bruce.” Alfred voiced, eyebrows still dangerously high on his forehead as the shock of his agreement lingered still. 

“You are right, Alfred.” Bruce said, more sure of himself this time. 

Sitting up from the chair in front of the fireplace, Bruce grabbed Alfred’s shoulder in a firm ‘thank you’ gesture. The decision to step down, if only for a little while, actually felt quite good now that a minute or two had passed. 

It didn’t feel as bad as he thought it would, having resigned to hold the mantle of Batman for as long as his body and technology would hold him, the possibility of actually living for once was something new and somewhat exciting. 

“I’ll call Dick and Jay over tomorrow. Should we have a family dinner maybe?” Bruce mumbled more so to himself than Alfred as he left the office.  
“My word...”Alfred breathed worriedly as he stood in the doorway, watching Bruce climb the stairs, no doubt heading for his bedroom. 

‘Something wasn’t right with the boy...’ 

*

Clark buzzed around the Watchtower, his cape flowing furiously behind him as he walked briskly. He’d been off world and was gifted a particularly beautiful gem as thanks for his aid. It was a dark black gem, but if you held it up against the light, it would sparkle in the deepest, most beautiful reds Clark had ever seen in his life. 

It instantly reminded him of Bruce. 

So here he was, the gem carefully wrapped in a small box, waiting for Bruce to start his shift. He looked at the small box, carefully wrapped in deep green and silver wrapping paper. Lois had helped him out when after two rolls of wrapping paper and a whole roll of tape, all Clark had managed to produce was a ball of taped and ruined square-like shape thing. 

It had been a disaster, enough so that it almost had Clark in tears of frustration. The internet videos of how to gift wrap wasn’t much help, tutorials flying way past his head. In the end, anger had set in and that’s when Lois walked over from their couch to help him out. 

“You know, if you continue to pace back and forth like this, you’ll walk a hole in the floor.” Diana chirped up from behind one of the consols. 

Clark just scowled at her. She wouldn’t understand. She didn’t know Bruce as he did, didn’t know how hard he was to impress, much less please.

“I’m sure he’ll love the gift, Clark. Don’t worry so much.” She added as an afterthought, smiling over at him.  
The words had him stopping his frantic pacing. Looking over at her only confirmed his worries to be true. She knew.

“How did you..?” He stuttered dumbly. 

“We weren’t supposed to know?” Diana balked. “How could I miss it, how could anyone miss it?” She laughed fondly. 

“The puppy eyes you give him is not the best course of action if you were trying to hide your feelings for him.”

“Do you think he knows?” Clark almost whispered as dread settled deep in his stomach. ‘Had he really been that obvious?’

“What, Bruce?” She grinned even wider, reminding him of the cat that swallowed the canary. “Not a chance. That boy wouldn’t notice unless you smacked him on top of the head with it.”

“Who wouldn’t notice what?” Dick said as he slid around Clark’s big form. 

“Dick!” Clark squiped, just as surprised as Diana to see Bruce’s adopted son at the Watchtower. 

“And Jason, if anyone’s interested to notice me.” Jay’s dry, displeased voice called from behind them all.

And sure enough, turning around, provided Clark with Bruce’s second adopted son. They were both dressed up in costumes, Dick wearing his Nightwing uniform, while Jason wore the deep black of Batman. 

“Where’s Bruce?” Clark asked, a bad feeling settling in his chest. 

“You should probably check your inboxes.” Dick said, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as Jason crossed his arms behind him. 

Walking over to the nearest computer, Clark signed in to his message box, but it provided no new message. Curiously, he looked up from the screen only to see Diana deep in thoughts as she was reading something on the screen. 

“Hey, did you just get an email from Bats?” Barry popped in, stopping between Dick and Jason. 

“I’m reading it now.” Diana answered, not at all interested in greeting the younger man. 

Before Diana could finish though, the big screen turned on and J’onn’s displeased face popped on, his voice filling the Watchtower. 

“What is this message from Bruce Wayne?” He demanded, obviously upset. 

It seemed like everyone had received the email, everyone but him. Maybe it was just a fault. Bruce had made a mistake or the web had eaten the email. Smiling to himself, he walked over to Diana’s computer and bent down to read the message. 

His eyebrows shot up into his hairline a second later as the words on the screen registered in his head. Bruce was stepping down, leaving most of the responsibility of Batman to Dick and Jason. 

Bruce was leaving. 

Moving the mouse over to see who the email was sent to. Upon reading the list, anger and sadness filled his chest so fast it left him feeling nauseated. Stumbling back from the desk, Clark had to hold onto something for support. 

He was losing control of his body fast, this new emotion blossoming up inside of him, leaving him almost scared. He could feel the heat from his eyes loading up, a whining creaking sound from behind him as whatever it was he was holding onto bowed to the sheer strength of his hands. 

He needed to get out of here, he needed air. 

Clawing at his collar, he pulled and scratched, unaware of the force as the material of his suit ripped beneath his desperate hands. His chest hurt, pain worse than kryptonite seemed to wrap itself around his heart, squeezing hard, like a vice. 

He didn’t hear the worried calls from his friends, his mind closing in on itself, too occupied with the sheer pain coursing through his chest. Distantly he was aware of the blood bathing his fingers in red, but the dots wouldn’t seem to connect. 

He couldn’t breathe. 

He needed air. 

He needed to get away from here. 

Without any thought to where they were, he made the nearest exit there was, though the thick walls of the Watchtower. Clark never heard the screams of terror and panic as he flew away, leaving the Watchtower’s systems to close the breach he had just made. 

He needed....he needed.....solitude. 

*

Flying to the only place he knew would be safe from the damage he could inflict, Clark crashed into the fortress of solitude rather unceremoniously, as if a baby bird just learning to fly. The cold crash of the ice was enough to ground just a little bit. 

Staring at the large white hall, Clark felt more lost than he’d ever felt before. He’d never been arrogant enough to think that Bruce Wayne would throw himself at Clark’s feet, he wasn’t even sure that Bruce liked men, and if he did, was Clark even human enough in Bruce’s eyes. 

He’d had puppy crushes before, but this time, this was no ordinary puppy crush. Clark had walked in on a gala many years ago, making a complete and utter fool of himself as his eyes fell onto his target for the night; Bruce Wayne. 

Bruce had been dressed to the T that night, a beautiful charcoal three-piece suit hugged his body in all the right places, his hair was an unruly mop of dark brown as the wind outside had ruined its perfectly styled look before he’d entered the gala. 

His deep green eyes had pierced into Clark’s clear blue ones as he’d moved forward to introduce himself as the Daily Planet journalist. Bruce had smiled at him, a smile that Clark had later found, actually reached his eyes, making them twinkle in the dim lighting. 

Clark.exe had stopped working in the span of a millisecond, resulting in the clumsiest fall in the existence of clumsy falls. He’d ruined the knees of his pants, his glasses had broken and his own hair had been disheveled in the fall. 

Instead of laughing like everyone around him, Bruce had kneeled down to pick up Clark’s pen and notebook, then offered him a hand to help him up. Clark’s face had burned with embarrassment as he reached out to take Bruce’s offered hand, long, strong fingers curling around his hand as Bruce hoisted Clark up with surprising strength. 

Clark was no small man, he was well aware of that face. But Bruce had lifted him up as if Clark had been one of the dainty ladies that could be seen clambering to Bruce’s arms most of the time. He’d been speechless as Bruce righted his suit jacket, set his glasses on his nose and ran the fingers of his left hand through Clark’s hair to push it aside. Bruce had smiled apologetically at him, throwing a flamboyant comment out in the air of ‘I tend to have that effect on people.’ making the people around them snicker. 

Bruce had then wound his arm with Clark’s own, leading him away to a more secluded place, snatching two flutes of champagne before sitting a still shocked and speechless Clark down on a chair, offering one of the flutes for him to occupy his numb hands. 

Clark could never forget the serious look that overcame Bruce’s face as he leaned down, hands on Clark’s knees as he looked into his eyes, worriedly asking if he was alright. 

It had taken a few minutes before Clark could snap out of it, an angry, embarrassed blush painting his face pink. He’d made a complete fool of himself that night. Had quite frankly fallen head over heels for Bruce. Love at first sight. 

The next few years that followed had been rough, what with Clark basically dying and all. But Bruce had come through to right his failures, had banded together The Justice League. For him. 

Clark had been so confused and angry with Bruce when he had woken up. His memories before he died had been that of pain and suffering, heartache and unrequited love once Bruce had launched his rage upon Superman before he knew who Clark was. Lois had been his only friend, the only one standing by him as the world turned to ashes around him. 

So upon seeing Bruce again, his mind had short-circuited and drowned in a black fit of rage. Bruce had taken everything from him, his freedom, his honor....his heart. Clark was not about to let him do it again. 

Batman and Superman had clashed together and out of the two, only the dark knight had emerged victorious. A small part of Clark still wonders which one of them would have won in the end if it hadn’t been for Lex Luthor. 

Bruce had been his greatest opponent, the greatest force Earth had to offer against him. He wonders how it would have played out if he hadn’t been as heartbroken as he was. 

The friendship between them had been blossoming, the two spending so much time together, so much that the tabloids had speculated that Bruce Wayne had a special someone hidden away in Metropolis. 

It hadn’t been beneath Clark to read through all the gossip, almost preening at the wild theories and the now suddenly secretive billionaire. He’d been so head over heels for Bruce that when everything started falling downhill, he had tried to turn the other way. 

He didn’t much care for Bruce’s violent methods, the way he used Batman as fear propaganda to get to Superman. In the end, they had slid apart from each other, Bruce too busy with his hunt on the alien he deemed the world’s greatest threat. Clark, Clark had been too shattered to do anything but going to work and his normal Suparman jig. He stayed as far away from Gotham and Bruce Wayne as possible. 

By then, he had sworn he to never fall like that again, after all; fools like him never won. 

Instead he devoted his every breathing moment to his mother and Lois. In the confusion and fear of his first few hours back to the living, he’d been so desperate that he had asked for Lois’ hand in marriage. He’d been so afraid to be alone again, the trauma of the last months imprinted in his mind, keeping his fears imprisoned. 

Before going after Steppenwolf, Lois had curled up beside him on the couch and told him that she didn’t love him the way he needed her to and that he shouldn’t marry her because he was afraid of being alone. 

Clark’s mind had gone blank, but after a long talk, he’d realized that loneliness wasn’t the only reason behind his odd proposal of marriage. He’d never worked up the nerve to tell his mother that he liked men, was afraid of the way she would look at him, was afraid of her disappointment. 

After his death, he just didn’t have the heart to tell her that he would never be able to give her the grandchildren she so wished for. Proposing to Lois had been a knee-jerk reaction of too many fears crashing together at once. 

When she had placed her hands on both sides of his face and smiled softly at him, his fears had disappeared completely and he knew that everything would be alright again. She would never be able to love him in the marital sense, would never bear him children, but Clark was alright with that. Heck, after everything, he wasn’t even sure he would be able to have children, his body too banged up and bruised.

They were happy together, had always been. They had a career they were both proud off, Clark never had to be lonely again and when they had told his mother the news, she had cried of joy. When Steppenwolf was defeated, Clark wouldn’t have to worry about anything ever again. His mother would move to Metropolis with them and they would live happily ever after. 

Everything was right in the world once more. 

Then Bruce had walked right back into his life, had muscled his way past any and all defenses Clark had built up, had charmed his way inside once again. 

He got the farm back.

He bought the bank when they had refused to give in to his wishes. He moved his mother back, furniture and all. Had restored both the house and the barn by the time he gave her the deed. Clark’s chest had contracted painfully when Bruce, although reluctantly, had wrapped his arm around him and walked him inside the house. 

After that Clark had been putty in Bruce’s hands once more. During the last five years, their friendship grew to new heights, deepening to become something unshatterable. At least, that’s what Clark had thought. 

How wrong he could be. 

Punching one of the ice walls, he roared as loudly as he could, the anger burning so painfully bright. He’d been played for a fool again. Had let Bruce trick him into a lull of warmth and security, had held him close and whispered sweet nothings in his ear as they lounged on of the big couched in Wayne manor. 

He had done all of this, only to pull the carpet from beneath Clark’s feet. 

Bruce was stepping back, was leaving most of the responsibility to his two oldest sons. He had decided that Clark wasn’t good enough to know about it. 

Clark had known that something was wrong with Bruce, had known for months now. But Bruce was not one to talk about feelings and whenever he asked, he’d get a grumpy ‘Just stressed.’ back. 

Alfred had just sighed deeply and patted his shoulder to comfort him. He’d sworn that Bruce would be alright, to just give him time to work through his thoughts. 

Well, it seemed that Bruce worked through them alright. He’d decided that Clark wasn’t important enough to get the news, wasn’t good enough to be informed that “his best friend” wouldn’t continue his work, wouldn’t be there anymore. 

Pain and helplessness coursed through Clark’s body as if in a race. It made him dizzy enough to fall to his knees, hands holding his head as he screamed again and again. The pressure inside him wouldn’t let up though. 

When he woke up in the same place he’d fallen to his knees the day after, Clark decided that he had a problem. He needed help. Professional help. This couldn’t be healthy.

But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t muster the energy to actually get up from the ice-cold ground. 

*

Bruce had been beside himself with rage when he’d gotten the distress signal from the Watchtower. Dick and Jason were up there and he was not losing one of his sons again. He’d been in the cave, suited up and transported before he could think twice. 

What had met him was utter chaos. The deck looked as if a tornado had raged through it, everything that wasn’t bolted to the floor lay scattered around the room. Alarms bleared loudly, the lights blinking red with every round of the alarm, and there in the middle stood Dick and Jason. 

He was across the room, gathering both men up in his arms before any of them could notice his arrival. Jason fought him nail and tooth, but in the end, gave in and hugged him back. 

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, the warmth of his boys too comforting to Bruce to make him let go. Dick was whispering small, soft ‘We’re alright’ and ‘No one’s hurt..well...’. 

When he finally let go of them, Jason was a flushing, embarrassed mess. He avoided eye contact at every cost and Bruce made a promise to himself right then, that he would hug his second-oldest son more often, whether he liked it or not. 

“What happened here?” Bruce growled to Diana as she was the closest one. 

“Clark got... Clark flew out in a hurry.” She finally sighed, placing her arms on her hips. 

“Clark did this?” Bruce gawked, not believing her. 

“Well, technically; you did this to him.” Diana snarked back at him, arms folding to cross over her chest as she scowled at him. 

“I was not here, Diana. How could I have done anything to him?” Bruce bit back, matching her temper with every word. 

“Why didn’t you notify him, Bruce?”

The question took him by surprise, squelching his burning anger like a tsunami. It left him speechless and open, vulnerable like they’d only seen once before. For long moments Bruce didn’t say anything, his mouth opening, and closing as if a fish above water. 

“I-I had my reasons.” Is the terse reply that leaves his mouth though. 

It’s defensive and childish, he knows this, but he can’t help the fact that he wants to keep his feelings for Clark a secret. The dual groan from the boys behind him doesn’t help matters much, as Diana rolls her eyes at him.

“You better find a way to make this up to him, Bruce. I’ve never seen him like this before.” She dismisses him without another word. No comment as to why he’s stepping down, why he sent Dick and Jason in his stead.

Diana obviously knew something about Clark that he didn’t, she never backed off so easily when he pulled these things on her. She’d pester and threaten him until she got her way, and the princess of the Amazons always got what she wanted. Bome hell and high waters though, Bruce swore he’d get to the bottom of whatever this was. 

‘Was something wrong with Clark?’ The sudden thought made him stop in his hasty retreat, heart pounding frantically as ice-cold fear ran down his spine. It had been a little over five years since they’d managed to bring Clark back, who knew what that would do to his body. 

Turning back, ready to ask Diana, he was met with the most annoying sight he’d ever seen in his life. The Amazon princess stood leaning by a cocked hip on one of the desks, her arms crossed as she inspected the nails of her right hand, her face painted with the most obnoxious smirk Bruce had ever seen. It put Jason’s usually annoying smirks to shame. 

Clenching his jaw shut, Bruce stood there, staring her down. It was a fight he knew he’d lose, but he couldn’t fail himself for at least trying to stand up for himself. Embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck, his cowl suddenly too hot, too sticky with sweat as the minutes dragged by. 

Distantly he could hear his sons exasperated sighs as they left the room, no doubt I search of Barry. With his rather imagined support from his sons gone, his resolve to challenge Diana disappeared rather quickly. It started with a loud swallow, a motion that had him chocking as it went down the wrong way. 

He refused to cough though. No matter how much his lungs wheezed and itched for him to release the burning sensation, Bruce knew that if he gave in to the need, he’d lose the challenge. 

“Oh for crying out loud, Bruce. Just go find him.” Diana snarked as his eyes watered with the burn to cough, throwing her hands up in the air as she stood and walked right past him. 

Without answering, he turned to the transporter, standing in the middle as the glass doors closed around him and in seconds, he was back in the Batcave. He didn’t want to call Clark, didn’t want to face the one person he was trying to keep his distance from. 

But what if something was wrong with Clark? What if there were complications that spent the last five years to build enough to show up. What if Clark was dying? 

Too antsy to have even noticed, Bruce had already picked up the phone and dialed Clark’s number, knowing it by heart. The voice of the operator informing him that Clark’s phone was out of range, was enough to draw him back from his mini panic attack. 

‘He’s at the fortress then.’ Bruce smirked to himself, all to pleased with his deduction skills. 

Dressing down from his bat-suit was done in a rush, though picking his next clothes was a much slower affair. Antarctica was a cold, cold place after all. He could always go for the suit designed for the cold bite of frost, but he wasn’t going as Batman this time around. 

This time, he was going as Bruce Wayne, concerned friend, hopelessly in love with his best friend. Snorting to himself, he dressed in the most normal looking gear he could find, grabbing an extra parka, just in case. He was off in less than five minutes, a hastily scribbled note to Alfred of where he was going. 

Bruce had never enjoyed the waiting part of travels. It had a way of making his overactive mind try to claw its way out, to find something, anything to do. It wasn’t that he never had downtime, cause he did, it just didn’t involve sitting inside a tiny cabin for hours. He just didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now.

He was all too relieved when he saw the sun reflecting on the snow-covered landscape on the horizon, the fortress a dark siluet. He’d be landing in a few short minutes and then he needed to confront Clark. 

But what was he supposed to say? The truth was out of the question, but then again, he’d never been good at lying to Clark, hadn’t been able to since he... the truth wasn’t an option. Clark was a happily married man and Bruce would rather live a life of pain and longing before sabotaging Clark’s happiness. 

The time was up though, his ride touching down, parking the transport as close to the entrance as possible. With his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, Bruce stepped out of the cabin, shivering slightly as the icy cold wind ran past him. The sun was setting, promising to chill the air drastically in short moments. 

Entering the fortress, the lights turned on automatically, the fortes knowing his person and that he would always be welcome here. What met him as the light flickered on was something out of Bruce’s worst nightmares. 

Most of the inside was smashed to bits and pieces, the ice scattered everywhere Bruce could see. Something was painfully wrong, but whether it was with Clark or by someone else’s hand, Bruce didn’t know. 

Faster than he’d ever ran in his life, Bruce sprinted back to his ship, throwing himself inside and ordered the ship to call Clark back. The few seconds it took to connect with the operator was enough for Bruce’s panic to spike to an all-time high. In his haste, his mind went to Lois and he set his jaw almost painfully hard. 

“Call Mrs. Lane.” His voice growled harshly, Bruce dreaded the overly curious voice that would soon pick up the phone. 

“Decided to give me inside scoop, Brucie?” Lois’ annoying voice picked up on the fourth ring. 

She didn’t sound distressed, so either she didn’t know anything or Clark wasn’t actually in danger. Forcing his voice to sound calm, Bruce fired loose. 

“Is Clark with you? I’ve been trying to call him for a while.” He delivered flawlessly. 

“No, he’s not, Bruce. Last I heard he had arrived back from his assignment. Have you tried his job?” Lois replied almost too sweetly. 

“I did, but there had been some kind of crisis and no one knew where he’d gone off to.” Skitting the line of truth and fiction, Bruce tried to stay as close to reality as he could without being obvious.

“I’m sure he’ll call you back when he’s ready, Bruici.” She cooed back as a ping sounded in the background, “Oh that’s me. Talk to you later!”

She had hung up on him, leaving him to wonder what was going on. But something nagged in the back of his head, something she had said to him. He was unable to figure out what that something was when the sound of Martha Kent’s voice came over the speakers. 

“Kent residence.” Her soft but tired voice filled the small cockpit.

“Mrs. Kent, it’s Bruce.” Bruce started softly, but was immediately interrupted by Martha’s soft ‘ah’. 

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to call.” The words confused Bruce as he wasn’t sure why she was expecting his call. 

“Clark... I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but whatever it is, you better find a way to make it right again, Bruce. He hasn’t been this upset in a very long time.” She tutted at him, voice filled with worry for her son. 

“And if I remember correctly mister, you were to blame the last time too.” Martha added as an afterthought, sounding quite pleased with herself. 

“Now, you’re both adults, old enough to figure out whatever it is you need to figure out. Clark’s not in a good place, Bruce.” Her voice carries forlornly as if she isn’t really talking to him, but someone across the room. 

In the distance, Bruce recognizes the whined ‘momma’ belonging to Clark and sure enough, a few seconds later, Martha is back on the line, sighing deeply before she tutts again. 

“He doesn’t want to see you, darling.” She says dejectedly as if it pains her to say the words. 

He doesn’t want to see me. Why doesn’t he want to see me? Bruce’s mind raced through all the possibilities of what lay behind Clark’s reasoning. It couldn’t be the fact that he hadn’t sent Clark an email, right? He wouldn’t get so upset over a small thing like that. 

But as time stretched on, Bruce’s certainty started to waver. The timing of the email and Clark storming out had been almost too perfect. But why would he be upset over that? Bruce hadn’t sent him a notice because he didn’t know what to say yet. He still didn’t. 

He couldn’t just say that he needed time away from Clark so that he might have a fair chance to get over his fluttering feelings for the other man. Clark could never know. 

“Honey?” Martha’s worried voice called to him. 

“Y-yeah, I-I’m here.” He found himself stuttering in reply. 

“Just give him time, Bruce.” She said as a goodbye, sounding like she didn’t want to end the conversation anytime soon. 

“Don’t give up on him...” She whispered hastily before the tone went dead. 

They never heard his silent ‘I won’t,’ a few seconds later.

*

“Ma!” Clark growled at his mother. 

He’d rushed over to her when he’d stopped crying on the floor in the fortress. Had needed his mother’s reassurance, like a little child. Clark hadn’t been able to tell her what the fight was about, but without asking, she had seemed to know that it was about Bruce. 

“Oh don’t give me that voice, Clark. You’re both acting like quarreling teenagers.” She grumped right back at him, matching his annoyance like any champion. 

Crossing his arms over his chest didn’t help his case further, but he was butthurt by her betrayal. Bruce obviously didn’t care one way or another, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even reacted when she had told him that Clark was upset. 

Stomping from the living room to his childhood bedroom, Clark felt every bit the dramatic teenager his mother had accused them of being. He couldn’t help how deep the hurt of Bruce’s actions went. 

He’d been heartbroken before, all those years ago. But after he’d fallen a second time for Bruce, the emotions, his feelings for the older man seemed to have been imprinted in his DNA. 

Sleep eluded him that night and the next few that followed. The days were spent mostly in silence, Clark keeping to himself, thinking and overthinking what had gone wrong this time. For two people not being in a relationship, they sure seemed to have a rollercoaster ride of one. 

Turning to look at the watch on his nightstand, Clark sighed as it read 2:39 am. It was too late, way too early. His bed creaked and whined under his weight as he sat up in it, throwing on the t-shirt he discarded at the floor when he went to bed, Clark shuffled down the stairs, not at all surprised to see his mother sitting on the porch swing, the door wide open to the summer heat.

Sitting down beside her, his mother wrapped her short arms the best she could around his wide shoulders. It seemed that was all Clark needed to start the water fountain he’d been keeping at bay the last few days.

He lost track of time as his mother cradled him tightly to her, feeling so small and lost in her warm embrace. Clark had no recollection of saying anything at all, but when he’d cried all the tears he could, she softly pushed him away from her body, light blue eyes, a little red-rimmed, stared back at him with a soft smile, and Clark, Clark was helpless to keep his secret any longer. 

“I love him so much, momma.” He whispered, surprised that new tears filled his line of vision, blurring the early morning from his sight. 

“I know, Clark. I’ve always known.” She whispers into the mop of his dark hair, cradling him close again when heartbroken sobs aggressively tear their way from his hunched body. 

He told her everything after that. How he didn’t know how she would react to the news, how after he came back to life again, he didn’t want to disappoint her anymore, to which he received a slap to the back of his head. 

By the time the sun had risen, his voice was hoarse and his eyes angrily red-rimmed. He felt so much lighter, free even, now that he’d told her everything. She’d been surprisingly understanding, which had only made Clark feel worse for doubting the depth of her love for him. That she’d been disappointed with him, came as no surprise to him, though he vowed to make it up to her, she had only smiled at him, giving him an uneasy feeling. 

And rightly so. When Clark saw the sleek Bentley rolling into the farm, his blood went cold. Turning back towards his mother, her sharp eyes warned him about flying off, her quirked, smug smile told him that this was her price. 

Sighing, Clark ignored the greeting Bruce gave his mother before he headed out to the field where Clark worked. He could feel his heart racing in his chest and even though he tried not to listen, he couldn’t help but search for Bruce’s heartbeat. 

He knew the sound of Bruce’s heartbeat from every other sound in the known universe, could pinpoint it whenever he needed the comfort of the other man. Clark had sneaked ‘glances’ at it in the throes of passion, making his alone time all the more exciting. 

Bruce’s heartbeat was the most solid thing Clark knew about. Apart from his late father’s, he couldn’t remember encountering any other with a rhythm more confident and secure than that of Bruce Wayne’s. Now though, Bruce’s heart was racing in a near panic inside his chest, the rhythm and speed making Clark furrow his brows as he whips around to stare questioningly at his best friend. 

“Hey.” Bruce’s voice is gravel deep and hoarse. 

Clark doesn’t say anything to greet the other man though, he’s still to upset to know what to say. Looking past him towards his mother gives him the support he needs to voice something, anything. 

“What do you want, Bruce?” It wasn’t what he had meant to say, wasn’t even close, but the words fell so sourly from his lips anyway. He isn’t surprised to see Bruce flinch, a deep blush creeping in over his cheeks, eyes downcast in submission as if Clark is some scared animal he’s trying to calm.  
“I deserve that.” Bruce gives the dejected reply as if he really did deserve Clark’s cold shoulder and even though some part of him still believed that he did, Clark knew that that part of him was the one who was hurt because of his own feelings. It wasn’t fair towards Bruce. 

“Could we talk?” The rough voice asks, sounding so incredibly small that Clark is unable to keep his gaze away from him any longer. 

Bruce looked like a mess where he stood before him with his shoulders caving deeply towards his chest as if he’d spent the last few days curled up into a tight ball and now was unable to straighten his broken body fully. 

“What do you have to say that you haven’t already?” What was going on, who was this person replying for Clark. Distress filled his veins with ice-cold dread, fear of what Bruce would do next, how he’d react to Clark’s continued cold sneers. 

“Clark, please...” Bruce begged almost pathetically, red-rimmed green eyes really meeting Clark’s blue gaze this time. The clear pain that was in them almost took Clark’s breath away.

He’d seen Bruce like this only once, hidden beneath a cowl back then, but clear as day to him even with all the confusion going on. Now it was back on his best friend’s face and the sight made Clark feel nauseated. He’d never ever get used to seeing Bruce like this.

Sighing in defeat, Clark cocked his head to the side, indicating for Bruce to follow him. If they were going to have any kind of conversation after this, it was sure as hell going to be somewhere far away from prying ears. 

Swiping Bruce up and away, the surprised gasp that left Bruce was pleasing to Clark. The older man deserved a little discomfort for a little bit. Dropping Bruce unceremoniously by the little pond, Clark landed cross-legged beside him, looking over at the heap that was Bruce Wayne, a small pleased smirk on his lips as he watched the other man uncurl. 

“That was uncalled for, but I guess I deserved it.” He huffs, a small smile crossing his otherwise hard-set lips at Clark’s playfulness. 

“Hmm...” Clark just hummed in affirmation. 

They sat there side by side, watching the sun get ready to set, neither of them saying anything, though Clark could hear Bruce’s heartbeat speed and slow down as he prepared to word his thoughts, but decided not to. It was all good, Clark had time. 

“I’m sorry.” Bruce whispered after putting his head in his hands. The words were so soft that Clark wasn’t sure a normal human being would have been able to hear them. 

“I should have told you. I should have told you first.” He continues shortly after, sounding so broken that it pulled on Clark’s heart. 

“It’s... What I..” Bruce tried, he tried so hard, but the words seem to fail him. 

“I need some time away from you, Clark.” He finally manages to string the few words together, but to Clark, they make no sense whatsoever. 

“Not because of you, but because of me.”

Bruce raise his hand to halt Clark’s questions, his lips falling open as he’s denied to ask them. The older man refuses to look at him, seem to curl in even tighter on himself. But Clark smell the salt can see the glittering start of unshed tears in Bruce’s eyes and it makes his heart constrict painfully. 

“I fell for you, Clark. I fell for you so hard and I’ve tried, I’ve really tried my best not to, but I can’t. Shit... You’re happy with Lois and I don’t want to... I don’t want to lose your friendship because of this.” Once the bubble burst, Bruce seemed to be unable to stop his thoughts from spilling out. 

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say. Hell, I still don’t know what to say. I mean, how do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with them, right?” The laughter that escapes Bruce’s lips is anything but sane, the sound cold and distant, hysterical even. 

The meaning of the words doesn’t register with Clark at first, in fact, it doesn’t register before Bruce hastily gets up from the ground, mumbling to himself as he leaves Clark behind. The words don’t register within Clark’s mind before the sun has set and Bruce is a few feet away from his car. 

Clark doesn’t think he’s ever flown as fast as he did when the words fell into place within his mind. Bruce was in love with him. The desperate search for Bruce’s heartbeat when he shot up from the ground, was like a hunt for life itself. 

Crashing into the older man as he reached for the car door, Clark sent the heavy Bentley tumbling off into the side of his mother’s barn, metal and wood whining beneath the force. 

His other hand is wrapped tightly around Bruce, holding the older man tightly to his body. Alfred and his mother come running outside, no doubt to check on the rumble of the ruined car and barn. Clark couldn't care less though. He needed to hear those words one more time, needed the confirmation that his mind hadn’t played a cruel trick on him. 

“Say it again.” Clark whispered into the curve of Bruce’s neck, the older man holding onto his arm across his chest as if his life depended on it. At that moment, Bruce was small. His heartbeat calms as ice, as he raggedly fills his lungs with air. 

“I love you.” The declaration is unmistakable to anyone’s ears as proved by the dual gasps on the porch. Clark smiles into the crook of Bruce’s neck as happiness fills his every cell. 

“Again.” He whispers. 

“I love you.” The words are so strong, unwavering, just like Bruce’s heartbeat when he admits them out loud once more.

Clark never thought this would be something he’d be able to have, Bruce’s affections, Bruce’s heart, a heart he’d never given to anyone before him. His own heart fluttering, Clark turned Bruce around in his arms, the older man’s eyes staring confidently back into his own. 

There were no doubt in those green depths.

“That was a five-hundred-thousand dollar Bentley you just crashed into a hundred-thousand-dollar barn, Clark.” Bruce comments dryly, eyes still fixed on Clark’s.

“Oups?” Clark grins, not at all sorry for the damage he’d just done. “You can take it out of my salary,” he adds, humor dripping from every word. 

Bruce just rolls his eyes in response, the two of them having had this conversation multiple times before. Clark put his hand on the side of Bruce’s face, carefully caressing the rough skin underneath his fingers. 

Leaning in to connect their lips for the very first time, Clark was surprised to see Bruce bow his head away from the kiss. 

“Don’t. Please, don’t.” Bruce whispered brokenly, his voice begging and wet. 

“Bruce?” Clark asked, clearly confused. Had he read everything wrong? 

“Please don’t play with me. Gods know I deserve it, but I beg of you, please don’t.” Bruce breathed raggedly into Clark’s chest, his massive body almost shivering with every outward breath he took. 

“I’m not playing, Bruce.” He said firmly, tightening his grip around the older man. 

“Lois...” Bruce started, but Clark interrupted him before his mind could spin a story that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Lois knows, has always known. I’m gay, Bruce and for as long as I’ve known you, my heart has belonged to one man and one man only.” He said firmly, “After our falling out, Lois came to me with a proposition. I didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to disappoint my Ma, and Lois wanted to help.” 

“I love Lois with all my heart, but it isn’t the love a husband should have for his Wife. It never has been. Lois doesn’t love romantically, has no interest in a relationship. We were the perfect match at the time. Nothing more.” Clark explained, relief flooding his mind as felt Bruce relax in his arms, his own muscled arm wounding uncertainly around Clark’s body. 

“There’s only ever been you, Bruce.” Clark whispered into the deep dark-brown of Bruce’s hair. 

The moment they share is one so unlike them, neither man one to give in to an emotional display like this. But seven years of pining for each other had left a mark on them both, a mark neither man would ever look past. 

The small sob coming from within the circle of Clark’s arms has him softly rocking the emotionally drained man clambering to him as if his life depended on it. Shushing Bruce’s insistent sobs was something he never thought he’d be able to do. 

As time pass by them, the two stood still, just holding onto each other. Clark seemed to be the only one of them with a semi-clear mind, but when he moves to walk them both inside, Bruce’s hold on him tighten forcefully. 

“Just moving us inside, Bruce.” Clark says softly, rubbing Bruce’s back slowly. 

Bruce refuse to let go of him once he untangles himself from Clark though, his big hand desperately holding onto Clark’s own as Clark leads them both inside. The house is dark, both his mother and Alfred had gone to bed hours ago. A swift glance at the kitchen clock before walking up the stairs, confirm Clark’s suspicions as the green light shifts to 3:14 am. 

Clark lead them to his bedroom, surprised at how quiet Bruce is as he follows closely behind him. He hasn’t said a word for a long time now, only nodded or shook his head in answer to Clark’s questions. 

The submissive stance looks odd on Bruce, Clark so used to see the dominant side of him. He’d never thought that Bruce wouldn’t want to lead, but then again, nothing about their current situation was normal. Closing the door behind them, Clark walks them the few steps over to his small queen-sized bed, turning to Bruce and waiting for the older man to look up at him. 

“Are you alright with sharing a bed?” Clark asks when their eyes meet in the dark. 

Bruce just nodded, not even close to satisfying the consent Clark felt like he needed from the older man. 

“Bruce...? I can go sleep on the couch in the living room, it’s not a problem.” Clark offers, might as well, seeing as Bruce obviously struggled with wording his thoughts. 

“No,” the reply came fast, almost too fast. “Sharing is good. It’s...It’s alright.”

“Wall or door?” Clark smiles as the question seem to take a little time to register with Bruce. 

“Wall.”

“Thought as much.” He laughs softly, trying to let go of Bruce’s hand, but coming up with the extra limb still attached. 

Unbuttoning his plaid shirt with his free hand, Bruce lets go of Clark's hand for the few seconds it took for Clark to remove the shirt from his arm, leaving him in a white t-shirt. Kicking off his shoes and pants, Clark smile at Bruce, still fully dressed, shoes and all. 

He doesn’t mind one way or the other. But when Bruce kicks off his own shoes and unbuckles his pants, Clark can’t help but bite his bottom lip in response. He’s surprised when Bruce crawls up into his bed on his own accord, pulling Clark with him as their hands are still entwined. 

Their position is awkward at best, both of them too big to share the bed without touching. It doesn’t seem to stop Bruce as he finally let’s go of Clark’s hand, only to wrap his arm around Clark’s body, nuzzling into his broad chest. 

Clark is left flabbergasted, so thrown off by Bruce’s soft, cuddly side, that he spend a few precious seconds processing everything. It doesn’t take more than Bruce tensing up for Clark to wrap his own arms around Bruce, pulling him in close. 

It’s the most comfortable Clark’s ever been in his life, Bruce’s heat a solid comfort at his side, his steady heartbeat like the soft tip-tap of rain against his window. He’s almost asleep when he mumbles a soft “I love you.” but Clark, hears him loud and clear. 

“I love you too.” Clark whispers back, tasting the words for the very first time as he bends his head down to place a soft kiss to Bruce’s forehead. 

inside of him, the stars of the entire universe is shining brightly, his heart is soaring with happiness. He could have this, he could really have the life he’d been dreaming of, sharing it with the love of his life. For the first time since he was a blue-eyed kid, Clark knew happiness once more. 

*

Bruce wakes to the sensation of being too hot. Sweaty hot. The heavy leg on top of his and the massive biceps below his head and around his body is enough to have fear rushing through his body. 

‘What the hell did he do last night?’ 

“Stop thinking so hard, I’m not awake yet.” Clark’s voice mumble, hot puffs air tickling the top of his head. 

Relief washed through him at the recognition, but the relief is short-lived. He’s so confused. Why is he in Clark’s bed, in Clark’s arms? And if he was here, where was Clark’s wife?

“Bruce, relax.” Clark said softly, loosening his hold on him to show that he was no threat. 

It was enough to kickstart Bruce’s memories of what went down the day before. It all comes rushing back into him, Martha’s phone call, driving up to the farm, confessing to Clark. His mind played through all the memories so fast it left him dizzy. 

“Better?” Clark asked, looking down at him, blue eyes crinkling as they met his. 

‘Oh, Clark was beautiful in the morning.’ The thought popped into his mind, making him no doubt smile quite oddly for no apparent reason. 

“You love me.” Bruce whisper as he looks into those deep, blue depths Clark calls eyes. He’s not at all surprised when the blue immediately darkens upon registering the words, Clark’s arms holding him tighter as if he’s afraid that Bruce would leave. 

“I love you.” Clark confirms. 

There’s absolutely no room for doubt in his voice, each word almost punctuated as he says them slowly. He ends the three words with a soft kiss to Bruce’s forehead and unable to help himself, Bruce feels more vulnerable than he’s ever been before. 

Clark now has the power to break Bruce, has the power to be The Dark Knight puppeteer, pulling the strings as he wants to. For a millisecond, Bruce is actually scared of the sheer force he loves Clark with, of what the other man would be able to do to him if Bruce didn’t protect his heart. 

But no matter how loud the warning voices inside his head screamed at him, Bruce knew his heart would be protected with everything Clark had to offer. The con of Krypton would not forsake him, would love him just as fiercely as he loved everyone around him. Bruce had no doubt in his mind about that. 

“Are you alright, Bruce?” Clark’s deep voice rumbled through his chest, sending weird fluttering things though Bruce’s body to pool in his stomach. He could feel his hard dick jump against Clark’s thigh, which meant that Clark definitely felt it too. 

Burrowing his burning face into Clark’s chest, Bruce wished for death to take him when Clark laughed softly. He was too damn old to act like a teenager.

“As happy as it makes me that you want me like that, I will respect your boundaries, Bruce. Besides, Alfred and my Ma is downstairs.” Clark laughed as he untangled himself from Bruce’s body. 

As strong-willed as Bruce was, he couldn’t help but look at Clark as he stepped out of the bed, white boxer briefs clinging damply to his round ass and as he turned to step into his pants, Bruce could clearly see the erection weeping in the front. Smothering his face into the pillow, Bruce bit his bottom lip and groaned as his hips did an involuntary thrust into thin air. 

The humiliation burning high on his face only made him press harder into the pillow. Hopefully, if he pressed hard enough, the soft pillow would swallow him hole and save him the embarrassment of facing Clark. 

Laughing, Clark bent down to kiss the back of Bruce’s head, ruffling the hair as he walked over to the door. 

“I’ll make us some breakfast, eggs, and bacon on toast good for you?” He asked as he turned in the door. Bruce just nodded into the pillow, groaning once more as Clark laughed at him. 

He’d never seen Clark this happy before. The carefree chuckles, the sparkling of his deep blue eyes. It suited the younger man. 

Sighing deeply, Bruce stepped out of the comfortable, although small, bed. His body protested loudly, cracking and snapping as he stretched as far as his broken body could take him. Bending down he picked up his pants, stepping into each leg on unsteady feet. 

He couldn’t help but feel like he was doing the walk of shame as he climbed down the stairs. Four eyes met dug into him as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Clark standing at the stove with his back turned, leaving the fanfare of his mother and Alfred to shoot him knowing looks. 

“Did you sleep well, Master Bruce?” Alfred smirked at him. 

“Y-yeah.” Bruce mumbled, shooting him the deadliest glare he could get away within the company of Clark and his mother. 

“Everything works out, sweetie?” Martha smiled softly at him, but Bruce didn’t miss the sharp mirth that hid behind her smiling eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bruce answered anyway, opting for politeness. 

“I’m sorry about your barn, I’ll call someone over to fix it right away.” He adds as an afterthought. 

“No need for that, darling. Clark can fix it himself.” She says pointedly staring daggers as Clark’s back. 

Bruce can see Clark’s neck and ears turn pink from embarrassment, the big man stirring the frying eggs a bit more than he needs to. Sitting down beside Alfred, Bruce accepts the offered coffee that Clark slide across the table for him, blushing furiously as Clark winks at him before going back to the stove. 

He once again can’t help to think that he’s too old to feel this gitty and on top of the world. He has half a second to think about how Martha will take all of this, especially with Clark still being married and all, when the door crash open and they’re presented with an angry-looking Lois Lane. 

“I’m going to kill someone.” She roars as she stomps into the kitchen. 

Bruce can’t help but shrink down, guilt and regret flooding his good mood. She had every reason to want blood for him stealing her husband. 

“Clark! You were supposed to have this article ready yesterday. Perry was breathing up my neck all day yesterday because of your absence.” She flicked a file map at his head, hitting him with it until he took it from her. 

“I know, I’m sorry. Got a little busy yesterday though.” Clark says as he nods to Bruce hiding in the corner. 

Watching Lois Lane turn around, blue eyes locking onto his position, was like watching a great white shark zero in on its prey, only to realize that the prey was you and that you were bleeding. 

“Brucie!” She exclaims, voice so cheerfully high it almost made his ears bleed. 

“Gonna let me have the scoop on this one?” She grins, eyes sharp as they stare him down. 

“Be nice, Lois.” Clark says as he scoops her away with a hip bump, two plates of breakfast at hand. 

“Yeah, yeah... Leave him alone. I heard you the first eight times.” She flails dramatically as she pours herself a cup of coffee. 

If Bruce had been confused yesterday and this morning, it had nothing on how out of the loop he felt right now. Lois sat down beside Martha, stealing a strip of bacon from her plate before she opened the file map she brought with her. Folding the page, she scooted it over to Bruce. 

Deer caught in the headlights couldn’t even come close to describe how Bruce felt in that moment. 

“There you go, Brucie. He’s all legal, all yours now.” Lois smirked as Clark gawked at her once again, frowning deeply. 

Looking down at the paper, Bruce read the headline. ‘Declaration of Divorce’. That wasn’t what had Bruce do a double take though, but the date it was printed. Over a year ago, the divorce had been finalized.

Head shooting up to stare questioningly at Clark, Bruce didn’t know what to think, what to say. Clark wasn’t married? 

“We filed for divorce last Christmas when you invited Clark to that ski holiday with the boys. Your relationship was deepening and I wanted Clark to be ready.” Lois gave as a way of explanation, smiling softly, genuinely at him this time. 

Bruce could feel his vision spinning way before he had to hold onto someone, Alfred grabbing one of his hands as Clark leaned over the table to hold onto the other one. If the word “damsel in distress” could ever be worded to describe Bruce, now was the moment. 

“We knew you’d never intentionally ruin a marriage, Bruce.” Clark said, squeezing his hand, a tight, worried smile crossing his lips. 

“Clark called and picked me up this morning, we just had to get the copy of the file for you.” Lois smiled at him. 

There were too many smiles, too many kind words, too.... Bruce needed air. He needed air now. Getting up, he leaves the people in the kitchen behind. 

‘Give him a few minutes, Master Kent.” he can hear Alfred say as Clark, no doubt, scrape his chair backward in an attempt to follow after Bruce. 

Stumbling outside, Bruce finds himself at the bottom of a big tree. Leaning his back to it, Bruce gulp for air, his head spinning so fast it almost makes him nauseated. Nice things like this just didn’t happen to Bruce. No one sacrificed and worked this hard to make his life easier. 

Not unless they wanted something from him. 

But what did he have that Clark wanted. Given, he’d basically killed the love of his life, but he felt that he’d amended for a big part of that. What else could Clark want from him?

He was a middle-aged, broken man. Too screwed up in the head to have anything even close to normal, too devoted to the Batman. Bruce just didn’t get nice things. His cards just weren’t dealt that way. He was destined to live a lonely and sad life, with no other joys than his adopted sons. Even that he’d managed to screw up. 

“Stop thinking so hard.” Clark’s soft voice came from behind him. “Whatever it is you’ve decided must be the truth, your mind is wrong.”

Bruce can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that escape him. How did Clark know him this well?

“So what, huh? You just... you just prepared to have me. Is that it?” Bruce barks. 

Clark doesn’t say anything as Bruce has his little breakdown. He had cried way too much in the last week, had been way too emotional for his own liking, but he couldn’t help his response to the other man before him. 

Bruce was so painfully, helplessly in love with Clark that it scared him. 

“You know that isn’t true, Bruce.” Clark reply calmly, too calmly Bruce decides. 

“How long have you loved me, Bruce?” he asks instead. 

“What does that even....” Bruce starts, but Clark interrupts him. 

“How long?”

“S-seven years.” he admits. 

“And during those years, you’ve never changed anything for me?” Clark asks, still too calm, as if he’d anticipated Bruce’s breakdown. 

“No.” Bruce bites out. 

“So you didn’t change your flaunting flirting habits because your heart was elsewhere?” Clark knows too much. 

Bruce had been so careful, had stopped the moment he realized his feelings for the other man, had pulled back from the party life entirely. 

Begging with his eyes, Bruce looked up into Clark’s deep blue ones. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. 

“We change for the ones we love, Bruce. We line up our lives to make the others easier. What you did, what I did, we did for each other. Deep down, we both knew who we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with.” Clark slowly moves closer to Bruce, stopping just short of too close.

“There was a minor hiccup before we got there, but the vail has fallen, Bruce. Please don’t push it away because you’re scared. We’re both scared both vulnerable.” he continues, looking into Bruce’s eyes. 

“I killed you.” Bruce whispers as Clark's palm comes up to caress the side of his face. Shaking hands comes up to hold onto Clark’s wrists as he nuzzles into the offered comfort. 

“You didn’t kill me, Bruce. You brought me back to life.” Clark whispered back, moving closer, resting his forehead to Bruce’s.

“Look at me.” He whispers the demand so softly that Bruce is unable to do anything other than to obey. 

“You are the reason I’m able to stand before you today.” Clark says and Bruce finds himself unable to say anything. The younger man’s eyes have turned such a dark blue that they almost look black. It takes Bruce’s breath away. 

Leaning in, Bruce can't help but meet Clark halfway, their lips meeting for the very first time in a dance so passionate, small sparks shoot off throughout Bruce’s entire body. Clark’s lips are softer than he’d expected them to be, the soft, helpless whine in the back of his throat does things to Bruce he never thought possible. 

Deepening the kiss, Clark’s arms wrap around Bruce’s body as he steps close enough to merge with him. Bruce is unable to do anything other than holding on for dear life. 

Neither one of them notice when they left the ground, hovering just above the corn growing in the field. They turn around in a slow circle, completely blind to anything outside of their little bubble. 

“I love you, Bruce.” Clark whispers the words onto his lips as they break apart. 

Bruce can’t help the wide smile that crosses his raw lips as he finally lets himself feel, as he gives in to his heart’s desires, as he gives in to Clark’s incredible patience. 

*

Walking backward into Bruce’s bedroom that night had been something out of a wet dream. Bruce was so open, so ready and pliant, a putty in Clark’s arms as they stumbled over to his big California king-sized bed. 

Clark had been ready to wait for as long as Bruce needed, but somewhere along the ride home, Bruce had decided that his waiting days were over. It had started in the back of the new car, Alfred all too happy to turn up the privacy glass after Bruce got handsy with their kisses. 

Clark’s blood was on fire, boiling as ever tough Bruce left on his skin burned, buzzed, crawled, he didn’t know how to describe the feeling Bruce left behind. All he knew was that he never wanted it to end. 

Falling backward on his bed, Bruce scooted back towards the headboard, shirt falling open where Clark had unbuttoned it on their way up. Bruce’s skin was mouthwatering, his nipples small and erect as they invited him to play. 

Maybe another day Clark thought as he crawled over Bruce’s reclined body. The heat that radiated from the body underneath him, sent shivers up Clark’s spine. He needed as he’d never needed before. 

Capturing Bruce’s lips in yet another passionate kiss, Clark laid down on top of him, their combined weight dipping the bed, cocooning them in a tight embrace. Bruce’s hands were everywhere at once, ghosting through Clark’s hair, fisting almost painfully when he didn’t get his way. 

Bruce would no doubt be a demanding lover, Clark had counted on it. Though in his dreams, Bruce had always been the one on top. To think that Bruce would take on the submissive role for their first time, was beyond anything Clark had ever imagined. 

It only made him more certain in his love for Bruce that he deemed Clark worthy enough, that he trusted him enough to do this, to put his faith in Clark’s hands. It only made Bruce stronger in Clark’s eyes and as a man possessed, he turned to please Bruce’s every demand. 

He didn’t want to assume anything, but by Bruce’s sheer desperation, Clark didn’t think Bruce had been intimate with someone for a very, very long time. His suspicions solidified, even more, when short minutes after Clark engulfed Bruce’s cock, the older man had cried out, strangled and tense, as he spilled rope after rope of come into Clark’s mouth. 

Clark had been ready to call it a night as he kissed Bruce down from his high, his lover going completely boneless, eyes glassy. But when he’d moved to get a washcloth, Bruce had grabbed a hold of his open pants, pulling him back onto the bed, falling ungracefully over Bruce’s stomach. 

“We’re not done....please.” Bruce whispered almost breathlessly, his heart beating so fast as he turned around to lay on his stomach. 

“Bruce...” Clark heard himself breathing, the name falling from his lips without his knowledge. 

“Clark, please.” Bruce whined and Clark got the feeling that Bruce had never done this before. 

Spreading Bruce’s cheeks apart and diving in, proved his worries to be true. Bruce had no idea what he was doing, but instead of asking him, Clark decided to move slowly instead. The line between embarrassment and humiliation was very thin when it came to Bruce, Clark had learned that the hard way years ago.

Being prepared had always been something Clark prided himself with, but now more than ever, he was happy that he’d had enough functioning brain cells to think ahead. Retrieving the small travel-sized bottle of lube from his back pocket, Clark dribbled a fair amount onto his fingers, shifting it around to steal his body warmth. 

Kissing Bruce’s spine, Clark let his slick thumb softly slide over Bruce’s tightly clenched pucker. The response was immediate, the shiver running through Bruce’s body, so powerful that the bed shook. Repeating the motion gave Clark the same results. He couldn’t help the smile that crept upon him. 

As much as he loved being able to look at Bruce’s backside, he really wanted to see his lover’s face. Retreating from teasing Bruce’s hole, Clark sat back on his heels, grinning softly when Bruce whined indignantly. 

“I want to see your face, Bruce.” Clark explained, almost laughing as the big man slowly turned around, his face flushed pink and sweaty. 

Opting to softly pinch the closest nipple, Clark had to stifle a groan at the way it made Bruce’s back arch, his proud erection jutting from between his hips almost obscenely. It pleased him to see that Bruce’s erection hadn’t died when he’d come. Being quite a few years older than him, Clark had come to terms with the possibility of Bruce having erectile dysfunctions. It was something that he found didn’t bother him at all. 

Though the proud member bobbing freely in the air in front of him was anything but dysfunctional. It made Clark’s mouth water to swallow it down once more. Biting his bottom lip to distract himself, Clark shimmied out of his pants and boxers, his own erection bobbing in a greeting towards the beautiful man before him. 

Parting Bruce’s massive thighs was a euphoric experience in itself. The scars, burns and bullet wounds that scattered across the huge muscles painted a constellation so beautiful Clark almost forgot the reason he was down there. That was until his eyes landed on the delicious meal presented in the middle. 

Bruce’s balls hung low and big over his puffy taint, the sight of the smoot, softly stretched skin made a fresh dollop of pre-come dribble out of Calrk’s cock, the shaft bobbing desperately at the sight. 

Tearing his eyes from Bruce’s lower body, Clark looked up to meet his lover’s eyes. The deep green of Bruce’s eyes was ablaze with hunger, with want for Clark. It made his own eyes heat up and Clark had to close them to reign in his emotions. 

Bruce was so gorgeous he threatened to make Clark lose control of his body. He had no doubt that the day would come, but if anything, he was hellbent on their first time being as close to perfect as he could make it. 

Clark couldn’t fault himself for spending the better part of the next hour opening and preparing Bruce, and if he stalled the retreat of his four fingers, buried as deep as they could into his lover’s quivering hole, who could really blame him. Bruce had mewled and keened so beautifully as Clark slowly filled him to the max, his round cheeks meeting Clark’s hips in the softest of kisses as he bottomed out inside his lover. 

Bruce gasped and whined, holding onto Clark’s arms as he stopped moving, leaning down to kiss Bruce senseless to take his mind off of the intrusion down below. Their kisses turned deep and sloppy fairly quickly and if it hadn’t been for Bruce’s walls clenching down on Clark’s dick, he would have forgotten what he was doing. 

Parting from Bruce’s raw lips, Cøark met the hazy green eyes as he ever so slowly slid back, forcing Bruce’s eyes to go wide as his mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ in surprise. Clark slid back and forth as slowly as he could, eyes never leaving the deep depths of Bruce’s, his arms resting on both sides of his lover’s head, fencing him in, forcing him to stare back. 

Clark knew that the chance of him finding Bruce’s prostate without cheating was slim, but as the fluttering walls around his dick clenched hard, desperately trying to keep him inside as he slowly slid out, Clark couldn’t care less about the how’s and why’s of sex. Thrusting his hips a little firmer Clark was rewarded when Bruce’s upper body bowed beautifully, the motion tightening everything inside his lower body. 

Groaning, Clark struggled to keep himself from coming. With the way Bruce felt around him, it would be all to easy to let into the ball of electric currents rolling down his spine to pool in his abdomen. Leaning up to kiss Bruce’s full lips again, Clark shuffled closer to his lover’s body, Bruce’s massive thighs resting on top of Clark’s own as he scooted up the bed. 

The new position was apparently all Bruce needed as Clark’s cock thrusts landed deeper. Breaking the sloppy kiss, Clark looked down just in time to see Bruce come undone once more. He’d hit jackpot. 

Speeding up his thrusts, Clark mercilessly pounded into Bruce, the older man moaning helplessly, mumbling unintelligently as the motion forcefully milked his already drained raw balls. Sweat coated every bit of his skin, making Bruce glow in the dim light from the window. 

Clark had never in his life seen anyone more beautiful than Bruce at that moment. A weak arm came up to wound around Clark’s neck as softly, sobbed pleas fell from Bruce’s lips, eyes shining with tears, completely overwhelmed. It was all it took for Clark to lose the hold he had on his orgasm as seconds later he came to a stop as deep as he could go inside Bruce’s body, his body convulsing as he shot load after load inside the deep depths of his lover’s body. 

Collapsing on top of Bruce in an exhausted heap, neither man was able to move for the nearest quarter of an hour. Their heartbeat raced, breaths heaved to fill burning lungs with some much-needed air. Clark never wanted to leave this place inside the tight embrace of Bruce, his lover’s legs having crossed and locked behind the small of Clark’s back as he pounded into Bruce. 

Bruce was the first of them to land back on planet earth. With soft fingers, he combed through Clark’s sweaty hair, softly kissing his forehead as Clark lay on top of him. Heat pooled between their bodies, sticky come ever so slowly drying on their stomachs, but neither man was in a state to move. 

They fell asleep like that, Clark still connected to Bruce, his lover’s legs still locked securely around Clark’s waist. They’d pay for the awkward position in the morning, but they couldn’t care less about what the morning would bring as long as they stayed together. 

Clark had half a mind to think about Alfred or one of the boys walking in on them like this, but as sleep pulled him under, the steady and secure heartbeat of the man who loved him, pulled him into the deepest sleep of his life. 

Pulling apart the next morning had been a painful affair, Bruce’s body loudly cracking as Clark helped him out of the bed. Clark’s own body had cracked rather loudly as he’d ever so slowly risen to his knees, carefully slipping out of Bruce’s raw, puffy hole. His muscles had protested loudly at the motion, but looking over at his older lover, Clark had immediately felt better as Bruce’s face had contorted with something aching to pain.

“Want me to draw us a bath?” Clark asked, watching Bruce’s face soften. 

“Yeah. I feel sore all over.” Bruce winced as he croaked across the room to get to the bathroom. 

Once Bruce was finished with his business, Clark had filled the bathtub and started the shower. Ushering Bruce into the steaming hot stall had been easier than he thought, his lover going wherever Clark lead him to. 

Strong arms wound around Clark’s neck as he was slowly pulled down into a soft kiss. Bruce’s lips were soft and demanding as they brushed over his, his lover's body all but melting into Clarks. He still didn’t know how to describe his feeling for the man in front of him. Love just didn’t seem to cut it, the emotion so much deeper than either man could have ever hoped for. 

As the steam fogged up the glass walls of the shower stall, hiding the two lovers from prying eyes, the painful past was washed away behind them and with the steam, a new, clean future awaited the two. 

~ The End ~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope that you enjoyed the painfully slow ride. 
> 
> Don't forget to have a look at Suss' beautiful art piece to accompamy this story. It's breathtakingly beautiful!
> 
> https://twitter.com/susscx/status/1154560071642124288?s=19
> 
> https://susscx.tumblr.com/post/186551269121/my-superbat-big-bang-2019-accompanying-piece-for


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